We're Living in Interesting Times
by Verde Rosso Oro
Summary: a ship in a bottle, a wooden eye, and a broadsword are delivered to the White Collar Crimes Unit courtesy of the Keeper of the Code / or, Neal is apparently a pirate lord and Peter can't wait to hear this one. pirates, thieves, ships, and all. [not a crack-fic]


**summary:** a ship in a bottle, a wooden eye, and a broadsword are delivered to the White Collar Crimes Unit courtesy of the Keeper of the Code / or, Neal is apparently a pirate lord and Peter can't wait to hear this one. pirates, thieves, ships, and all. [not a crack-fic]

**disclaimer:** i don't own pirates of the caribbean or white collar series, characters, etc.

* * *

**chapter one:**

- we're devils and black sheep, and really bad eggs. _(drink up me hearties yo ho!)_

* * *

It goes something like this:

He gets to the office around eight in the morning and as usual Peter's already there, mixing brown sludge in a mug and pretending it's coffee. They exchange good mornings, Peter throws in a comment about Neal's hat and his kleptomania. Neal responds by drinking a cup of steaming hot Italian roast and a casual remark of a crime he may or may not have committed - it's really just an offhand comment about the Vatican and the Pope's hat. They gloss over the story - or, Neal glosses over the story while Peter insists they don't.

Jones comes in a little later than usual and it's obvious by the light sweat on his skin that his morning run was longer than usual. He greets Peter with a "Morning boss" and Neal with a slight nod. By his desk he talks with Diana about the latest scandal on the news - Marcus Armand, eccentric billionaire, had been talking with his board of directions when he - literally - dropped dead. He doesn't know much of Mr. Armand except that he has a lot of properties around the world. Canada, Hawaii, Australia, London, and some island in the Caribbean.

And then Hughes is out of his office, giving the two fingered point at Peter and Caffrey.

From behind the glass windows of Hughes' office Jones tries to read his boss' face but all he can get is mild surprise and some exasperation. And there's something else - was that excitement? Oh, this case was gonna be good. He could tell. Or maybe Jones was just imagining it. Wish and horses and all that. But he definitely wasn't misreading Caffrey's face; he looked like he was either going to vomit all over Hughes' desk or run away screaming in terror. Okay, so maybe he's exaggerating a bit. But still, it's a semi-accurate read of the situation. Working on mortgage fraud cases two weeks running can make a man a little antsy.

Peter leaves Hughes' office with a distracted Neal behind him. Diana and Jones look up to the balcony to see Peter giving them the two fingered point. "Conference room, now."

Peter starts with the brief history of Marcus Armand: 48, Caucasian male, died of unknown causes. His parents moved to America in 1960, Armand was four years old. The family is of old money although both Marcus and his wife Amelia added quite a bit to the family fortune over the years. He went to a regular public school and after graduation he studied at Penn State for the next four years. He went on to do his graduate and PhD at Yale, majoring in sociocultural anthropology. He married his college sweetheart at twenty-six, no kids. At thirty-five he took over the family business, Armand Industries, as CEO.

"Anyone else find it a little strange that this guy went to Penn State before Yale?" Diana asked. "I mean he's intelligent with a lot of family pull. He could have gone to any Ivy League university straight out of high school."

"Family tradition. If you wanna spend the big bucks, you have to do two things: support yourself for two years with no help from the family, and a university education," Peter said.

"Why is white collar looking into his death?" Jones asked.

Peter grinned. On the projector he pulled up three images. The first was a gold crown encrusted with diamond-shaped emerald and rubies, with pearls outlining its ridges. The second image was a scepter; a gold bulb at the top with a skinny length, ending with a emerald on its bottom. The third image was a ring; gold band and, of course, a large emerald in the middle, with a golden cross overlaying it.

"All three items were stolen from Marcus Armand's home, four hours after his death," Peter read from the file in his hand. "His wife is anxious to see them returned. Apparently their family heirlooms."

"That's a lot of gold," Jones whistled.

"Yeah, no kidding. The ring alone could buy me an island or three." Peter snorted. "These three pieces were rumored to be from the lost treasure of Cortes himself."

Everyone's eyes shifted to Neal, who was finding the ceiling very fascinating at the moment. Peter observed him with a narrow - and very suspicious - glare. "Neal," Peter said slowly. "Do you have anything to add?"

Neal shifted his wide-eyed gaze to Peter. "What? No, no. You've got it covered."

Right. Neal just made his day complicated, didn't he?

* * *

The team is about to leave the office - Diana and Jones will head to Armand's office and talk to his PA and co-workers, while Peter and Neal head to Armand's estate and talk to the wife. All's going well until a guy from the mailroom comes in with a large rectangular package and promptly dumps it on Neal's desk. The guy recognizes the con man, hat and all, and smiles sheepishly, "Your package arrived a few days ago, sir. I'm new here is all and I got swamped with all this mail. Kinda messed everything up down there. So ah, sorry it took so long. Have a good one, yeah?"

Here's the thing.

Neal is a pretty stand up guy - aside from the stealing, forging, smuggling and general crookedness. He's a gentleman through and through. He doesn't like violence and he really, really doesn't like guns. He doesn't take from anyone who can't afford it. He doesn't sell drugs (although there was a brief stint involving copious amounts of counterfeit whiskey). He's a conman; a suave smiling, smooth talking, criminal with style.

And _this _is _not_ his finest moment.

Because on top of the box, underneath the FBI building address, is a skull and bones. These are the first two thoughts that Neal has as he stares in horror at the box (because seriously, Kate just died, him and Peters friendship was hanging by a thread, and he has no idea what the hell he's going tell the team about Marc Armand, his wife, or whatever the hell is in this box):

The first thought is, _shit_.

The second thought is, _Jesus Neal, other criminals get on the bad side of the mob but noo you just had to do something else. Just had to get involved in the family business. It'll be fine, you said. It might even be fun, you said. Definitely an adventure, you said. It's not as if you actually have to sail around the seven seas and pillage and plunder, you said. And now you're standing in the middle of the FBI with Peter breathing down your neck all because Marc is dead and you just received a package from the Keeper. How's that for an adventure? Okay - okay. Just breathe, just breathe. You. Have. To. Keep. It. Together._

And there's a part of him that thinks, _bit too late for that isn't it?_

Bloody pirates.

* * *

Between Neal's insistence that it's just a package he's been expecting from eBay (and wow, is that the worst lie in all of history or what? Neal Caffrey buying something on eBay That'll be the day) and between Peter's thinly veiled accusations and Jones' ridiculous theories (that aren't actually too far off) it's Diana that loses it first. She grabs a pair of scissors from her desk and cuts through the tape. And immediately wished she didn't Or you know, maybe Neal could just be a normal person who gets bills and advertisements in the mail. Because she can live with the ship in the bottle, hell she won't even ask about the sword but an eyeball? Really? She is actually staring at an eyeball. Granted, it's a fake wooden eyeball but and eyeball nonetheless. Moreover, Neal just received an eyeball in the mail.

Repeat, _Neal just received and eyeball in the mail._

Peter is the first to comment. "You still gonna go with the I-bought-this-on-eBay story?"

"No," Neal sighs. Quickly he closes the box and slides it below his desk - of course, not before slipping the eyeball in his pocket. You can't just go leaving that stuff behind. And whose bright idea was it to send it in the mail anyways? "I'm gonna go with the I-have-nothing-to-say story. You know, you guys are so easily distracted. While we're all just standing here a thief is getting away."

Neal starts walking towards the elevator, the others not far behind.

Jones licks his lips, "That was a broadsword-

"No comment."

"I saw you take the eyeball out of the box," Diana accuses.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Peter puts a hand on Neal's shoulder in a sympathetic gesture (which is more of a I'm-still-your-friend-so-we'll-take-this-slow-but- you're-going-to-tell-me-what-the-hell-is-going-on gesture. Body language, eighty percent of a conversation you know). "Okay. How about we start small. What's with the skull and crossbones on the box?"

Neal doesn't respond to that - mostly because he's too busy laughing.

Start _small_, he says.

* * *

- we're beggars and blighters and ne'er do-well cads. _(drink up me hearties yo ho!)_

* * *

**authors comments:** hey friends! so i know i shouldn't be starting another story but i just couldn't resist. this is supposed to be a short multi-chapter story, but i make no such promises.

**NOTE:** THIS STORY IS ASSUMING THAT WE STILL DON'T KNOW WHO NEALS FATHER/PAST IS.

It starts sometime after 'What Happens in Burma' (season 2, episode 16) and before 'Forging Bonds' (season 2, episode 17)

^ HOWEVER, I'M NOT IMPLYING THAT THE CONVERSATION ABOUT NEAL'S DAD BEING A DIRTY COP DIDN'T HAPPEN. IT DID.

see you all next time! don't forget to review and tell me what you think, or what you'd like to see. i just want to know what you guys are thinking when you're reading this.


End file.
